


Therapy

by wandering_gypsy_feet



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:33:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26930674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandering_gypsy_feet/pseuds/wandering_gypsy_feet
Summary: Archie Hopper is use to everyone in Storybrooke telling him their secrets.He just doesn't anticipate what Belle's secret is going to be.“If you can love a bad person, does that mean you yourself are a bad person?”
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 21
Kudos: 64





	Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> writing for a fandom that ended two years ago because pandemic + being in my feels? 
> 
> sure why not

“What’s on your mind today?” Archie asks his newest patient calmly. Across from him, Belle doesn’t shift or squirm like some people do upon entering his office. She doesn’t shy away from him or seem embarrassed of being seen at a therapists office. She sits with her hands folded in her lap and smiles at him politely, ankles crossed in her sky high heels.

“The usual. Worry about work. Worry about friends. Tell myself to make something healthy for supper, but really just will end up throwing a frozen pizza in the oven,” she tells him with a smile.

“Is that what brings you to me?” he prods gently.

“Probably not.” she has a quite pretty smile, he thinks. It crinkles up the corners of her blue eyes, making it seem very genuine. “There’s something else there, under it all, I suppose.”

“We could start there,” he suggests. He wonders what it is that has driven her here, instead of asking her friends over drinks at the Rabbit Hole. Everyone in Storybrooke has their secrets. What is Belle French’s?

“If you can love a bad person, does that mean you yourself are a bad person?”

Whatever he’d been expecting, this certainly wasn’t it. He is quiet for a second, doing his best to strike an appropriately pensive expression. Belle watches him, hands still folded. After a second, it clicks. But of course. Everyone knows Moe French. Petty thief, gambler, overall wastrel. And Belle’s father. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts over how to best approach this gently.

“Well, we love all sorts of people,” he begins carefully. “Oftentimes, if we are unaware of their true nature, we find ourselves loving them. This makes it complicated, later, when we grow older and wiser.”

“No,” Belle says, a bit impatiently, “I’ve always known his nature. True nature, that is.”

“Oh.” a little confused, he sits back. How could she have known her father was a criminal as an infant, toddler, child? Surely she’s not that perceptive. “Well, why don’t you tell me about your feelings then?”

“My feelings.” she glances down at her hands. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ve always thought that I was a good person. Tried my best. Nice to others, all the rest. But I love someone who isn’t. Who sees the world differently. Who has a different moral code, per say.”

“Alright, that’s good,” he tells her, but inwardly he’s baffled. From what he’s heard, Moe French has no code. “Go on.”

“I mean, I certainly don’t approve. Not all the time, at least. But when everyone else acts like it’s so egregious, I guess…. I see the logic behind it. So if I can love the darkness, does that make me dark as well?” she bites her lip, the first sign of distress he’s seen on her pretty face.

“You see…. The logic behind it?” he asks carefully. Is there logic behind what her father does?

“Occasionally. There’s money. There’s power. And yes, sometimes there’s revenge. It’s all…. Dramatic, if I had to pick a word. Showy. Boastful. A mask, a facade to maintain. To cultivate a certain image, one that protects what’s really within.”

“And what’s within?” if he had to describe her father, showy and boastful wouldn’t be his choice. Drunk and disorderly was more like it.

“A good heart.” Belle’s face softens. “A loving, caring person who wants, so desperately to connect with someone. Who has this wealth of love, waiting to be given, to someone who earns it. Deserves it. Who isn’t after anything but love. But that’s all hidden away, because there’s so much at stake. It all hinges on the mask, you see. On the ability to be seen as imposing and terrifying. But I can see beneath that - I get to see beneath that! - and no one else can. Which leads me back to my central question. If someone is a bit dark, a bit cruel, but I still love them, how do I reconcile that with my own self image?”

“That’s a struggle as old as time.” his mind is still reeling. She can’t be talking about her father. None of it adds up. But who then? “Our perception of ourselves is shaped by how others view us, for better or worse. But we have no real power to control other’s actions. We can only control ours. I don’t think you’re a bad person Belle, and I don’t think that you think you are one either. I think that you love someone and want them to be better. And that’s a noble intention.”

“What if I don’t?” Belle’s blue eyes narrow ever so slightly, something gleaming in the depths. “What if I promised to love and accept, as is? What if I said that I took him in his entirety? That the darkness didn’t scare me?”

“Why doesn’t it?”

“Because….” Belle takes a deep breath. “I know who I am. I know who I love. And I’ll be bright enough for the both of us. I’ll guide the way to change, if that’s what is really wanted. And if it isn’t, I’ll be there, by his side, because that’s where I belong.”

“Even if things get really bad? Can you condone, say, murder?” he asks her and for a second, Belle pauses.

“No.” her answer is automatic. “I want to say no, but really, I know it will depend. The reasoning behind it, if there is justification, if I’ve been told and I understand, then perhaps. I don’t see it going that far, ever. But if it does, I want to be told why.”

“And do you have that sort of communication?” he questions and the corners of her mouth turn up.

“We’re working on it.”

“I think you’ve answered your own question then Belle,” he says softly. “Like you said, you know who you are. No one decides your fate but you. You’re a good person.”

“No one decides my fate but me,” she echoes thoughtfully. “Thank you, doctor. That’s really quite helpful.”

“I aim to please,” he replies, folding up his notepad. Belle, still looking rather lost in thought, rises.

“Thank you.” she reaches over to take his hand, shaking it with a warm smile.

“Relationships with parents can be fraught,” he remarks, as he shows her to the door. “Tricky to navigate, even with the best of intentions.”

“Parents?” Belle gives him a rather blank look and he hastily backtracks.

“It’s just — I know — Your father —“

“Dr. Hopper.” Belle laughs. “I didn’t come see you about my father. He’s a miserable old man who deserves to slowly rot in prison instead of mingling with good society.”

“Then who….” he trails off, realizing what an inappropriate question that is. Belle gives him a cheeky grin as she heads for the stairs. Blinking, he steps back into his office. Slightly dazed, he finds himself wandering to the window, watching as Belle’s brunette head darts across the street and then heads the opposite direction of her beloved library. Realizing that it’s almost time for lunch anyways, he decides to go to Granny’s. A strong cup of coffee and her turkey burger will put him back to rights.

As he crosses the street, he glances into the windows of the shops. It’s his custom, to see what people are up to. To see if Leroy is back on a barstool, to see if Ashley is back to work after her postpartum depression, to check in on Henry on the playground. He’s just glancing into Gold’s shop to see what poor soul is trying to strike a bargain when he realizes that it’s someone wearing the exact shade of lilac that Belle was —

He stops dead in his tracks. Nothing in Belle’s body language suggests distress. Instead…. She seems quite happy. She’s leaning over the counter, laughing, a mischievous tilt to her head. He watches, startled, as her hand darts out and grabs something. Then into view comes a Mr. Gold, beckoned to Belle by his tie, until he kisses her.

Archie resumes walking rather quickly. All the pieces are in place by the time he reaches Granny’s. He decides to cancel his afternoon and have a much stronger drink. Sometimes, he just needs to think things through. And the idea that Belle, local town sweetheart, loves the formidable and domineering Mr. Gold is just such a thing.

**Author's Note:**

> reviews are love! i am writing a longer form rumbelle fic and so appreciate feedback!


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